Chapter 11
ELEVEN
STERLING
Maisy and I weave through the crowd at the Bluewater Bluffs Winter Festival.
The air is thick with the smell of roasted chestnuts, cinnamon, and pine trees.
String lights are strung everywhere, glowing against the icy night, and a group of carolers are singing somewhere near the town square.
It feels like we’re walking straight through a holiday movie set, and I hate to admit it, but I’ve kind of missed this.
When we were younger, it was a tradition for me, Levi, and Maisy to go to the Winter Festival together. We mostly went because Levi and Maisy’s parents wouldn’t let her go alone and I would tag along to put Levi out of his misery.
When Maisy and I started dating, I relieved Levi of the duty altogether, but I always found it boring. Until now.
When Jeff first waves us over to his group of friends, I expect Maisy to gravitate to his side and laugh at his stupid jokes the way she did at the dinner the other night.
But instead, she gives him a polite smile, says hi, and stays by my side.
I can’t hold back the smug grin when Jeff’s eyes land on mine.
The crowd grows thicker as we follow the group, and I open my arm for Maisy to take. She grabs ahold of my bicep and it’s not long before we stop to watch a violinist play on the street, Jeff’s group continuing on without us.
“Let’s go to that café,” Maisy says, pointing to a decorated coffee shop down the street.
Before I can answer, she pulls me down the cobbled street. I open the door for her, hearing the chime of a bell as we step in. Inside, the café is cozy, wooden beams crisscrossing along the ceiling, and a crackling fire surrounded by plush cushions.
Maisy releases my arms, rushing to the glass display near the counter. I’m not surprised when I find her staring at the platter of cranberry brie bites—her favourite.
“Welcome to Sunrise Café, would you like to try the brie bites?” a smiling redhead says from across the counter.
“I’d like them all please,” Maisy says.
I almost choke as I quickly count at least twenty brie bites on the platter, the redhead looking just as surprised. She doesn’t question it though as she gets to packing up all twenty of them.
“Would you like anything to drink?” she asks, as she rings up the brie bites.
Maisy turns her big blue eyes on me. “What’s that drink you always used to get?”
“Mulled cider?”
She snaps her fingers. “Yes! That’s the one.”
“But that has alc—” I pause, remembering that she drinks now. “Make that two mulled ciders, please,” I say, pulling my wallet out.
“Is that for here or to go?” the redhead asks nervously.
Why is she nervous?
“Uhm…” I glance around, my eyes landing on a booth in the back corner of the café. “Let’s do here.”
The redhead freezes as she follows my gaze to the booth. Then she takes a deep breath, turns her attention back to me, and pins me with knitted brows.
“Alright, but no funny business back there, okay?”
I rear my head back, my brows furrowing. “What does that mean?”
She lets out another deep breath, looking between Maisy and me before leaning forward, making sure no one else can hear what she’s saying.
“Just over a year ago, I had a couple sit in that very booth and they…they did stuff that you shouldn’t do in public.”
Maisy gasps, eating up the smalltown gossip.
I, on the other hand, roll my eyes as I pay and take my mulled cider from her. “Like what, making out?”
I bring the cup to my lips and take a sip as she shakes her head. “No, the guy was fingering his girl right in that booth!”
I choke on my drink, sputtering as I cough, my eyes going round. “The hell?”
“I know!” she exclaims. “And what makes it worse is he paid me off before leaving to make sure I didn’t tell the local paper. Apparently, he’s some big hot-shot surfer from Saltwater Springs.”
Maisy’s eyes instantly snap to mine and I mirror her shocked expression as the redhead taps her chin deep in thought.
“I think his name was Gerald,” she says before frowning. “Or was it Pipin?”
“You don’t mean Griffin, do you?” I ask slowly.
She snaps her fingers together. “That’s the name!”
“You know him?” Maisy asks.
I look between the two women, disturbed with this new knowledge and not wanting to continue this conversation any longer.
“No. I just heard the name before,” I say abruptly, handing Maisy her drink before grabbing the bag of brie bites. “On second thought, I think we’ll actually just take everything to-go. Thanks again.”
I rush out of there, Maisy in tow, and as soon as the café door closes behind us, Maisy turns to look at me.
“You definitely know Griffin,” she says, narrowing her eyes as she studies me.
“Take a sip of your drink,” I deflect, trying to distract her.
The last thing I want to be talking about is Griffin Jones fingering his girlfriend, Eliana Ward.
I’m still not used to the idea of Maisy drinking. She was always so strict with her diet because of all the hard work she was putting in to get into the Olympics. But I guess now that that’s done with, it makes sense she’d want to try all the things she missed out on back then.
I watch as she slowly lifts the cup to her lips. She blows on it carefully, then takes a sip, closing her eyes like she’s savoring it.
Her hum of approval punches straight through my chest. “That’s way too good. I can’t believe I was missing out on this all these years.”
“I’ll buy you another one on the way out if you want more,” I say before I can stop myself.
Her smile curves slowly, but she doesn’t say anything as she reaches for one of the brie bites in the bag.
We walk back to the main street, ciders in hand, wandering through the market stalls strung with fairy lights.
She pauses to admire handmade ornaments, knitted scarves, and sugar-dusted pastries.
I buy her one of those stupid oversized gingerbread cookies shaped like a snowflake, mostly because she keeps staring at it but won’t reach for her wallet.
She takes it from me, rolling her eyes. “You’re ridiculous.”
“And you’re welcome,” I shoot back, but the truth is, I like seeing her with it. I like seeing her with all of this—her cheeks pink, her dark hair sprinkled with snowflakes, and her laughing because of something I said. It reminds me of how things used to be, and I miss it.
We’re surrounded by families and couples, people bundled in scarves and mittens, holding hands, leaning into each other. It should feel suffocating being here with my ex.
But it feels right. Like maybe this is how it should be.
We’re still drifting between stalls, Maisy pointing at literally everything from carved wooden nutcrackers to jars of spiced honey, when Jeff suddenly materializes out of the crowd.
“There you are,” he says, slipping into step beside her, way too close. “We’re all headed to the rink. Are you guys coming?”
Maisy opens her mouth to answer for us, but I beat her to it.
“I’m good here,” I say, calm but clipped. My fingers twitch, wanting to curl around her wrist, and pull her to me to create some distance between her and Jeff.
He blinks at me like I just spoke a foreign language, as if he can’t understand why I answered his question instead of Maisy, before he looks back at her. “Do you want to skate?”
Maisy hesitates, then shakes her head, smiling politely. “Maybe another time. I kind of like wandering the markets.”
Relief floods through me in waves, and I can’t hold back my smug smile again when Jeff gives me a once-over, like he’s sizing me up.
Jeff shrugs, trying to hide his disappointment. “Alright, suit yourself.”
The moment he’s gone, my jaw unclenches. I hadn’t realized how tight I was holding it until now. The bastard pisses me off.
Maisy glances at me, brows lifted. “What was that?”
“What was what?” I ask, playing dumb as I take a long sip of my drink.
“I’m good here.” She mocks me with a deep voice, lips pursed out as she does it.
“I don’t sound like that.” I roll my eyes. “Plus, you hate skating. I was just doing you a favour.”
Maisy throws her head back and lets out a cackle, her eyes twinkling with amusement. “You don’t like him, do you?”
I smirk. “Not when he looks at you the way he does.”
She eyes me for a beat longer, like she wants to say something, but she lets it go, turning back to the stalls.
We wander farther down the line of stalls, until Maisy stops at a booth covered in glass ornaments—tiny hand-blown pieces that glitter under the bulbs. Snowflakes, reindeer, stars. She picks up one shaped like a pair of skis, turning it carefully in her hands.
Watching her holding the ornament jogs a memory. For as long as I’ve known Maisy, she’s collected Christmas ornaments. She probably has a huge collection by now, but you can bet that every single piece has some sort of special meaning to her.
Her lips part slightly, like she’s about to say something, but then she sets it back down and steps away. While she’s looking at the chocolate selection they have, I grab the ornament and quickly pay for it before she notices.
The cashier catches on that I’m trying to be discreet and quickly places the ornament into a gift box, tying it with a bow as her eyes shift to make sure Maisy hasn’t looked over yet.
She slides the gift box over with a wink and I flash her a grateful grin before putting the box in my jacket pocket just as Maisy turns around.
“Ready to check out another booth?” I ask, doing my best to sound casual.
“Actually, I think I’m ready to head home.”
My stomach plummets. “You want to go back already?” I ask, feeling disappointed that the night is coming to an end already.
She nods. “I’m freezing, and honestly the only thing I can think about is the hot tub back at the chalet.”
That grabs my attention, and I visibly straighten up. “There’s a hot tub at the chalet?”
She nods, biting back her smirk. “Yeah, just outside the back doors. Want to join me?”
I clear my throat, trying to act normal while my dick has other ideas. Lucky for me, my jacket hides the tent it’s pitching.
“Sure,” I say, trying to sound casual. “Let’s go.”